


Scattered Letters

by BlueJay26



Series: Poetry and Birds [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hey remember when i said Andrew was an author, Idiots in Love, Love Letters, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, We diss inanimate objects, angst but only in Neil's head, but that's just Neil, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueJay26/pseuds/BlueJay26
Summary: Neil keeps finding letters around the house. He doesn't read them; Andrew hasn't said anything, surely they aren't meant for him.Alternatively, the story of two professional athletes told through letters, postcards, and sticky notes.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Poetry and Birds [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888687
Comments: 75
Kudos: 267





	1. Chapter 1

The letters are new. Actually, now that Neil thinks about it lots of things are new. He’d first noticed the differences two days ago, but a strenuous practice had pushed it out of his mind. Now, as he walks out of the bathroom, the thought returns.

It shows how comfortable Neil is that the changes Andrew keeps making around the house don’t alarm him. He’s glad in a way; this is Andrew’s way of showing he belongs. Rearranging furniture. Leaving his pens and notebooks and mugs everywhere. Opening windows and leaving them open. It’s Andrew showing he exists, that he doesn’t have to hide himself. He’s leaving his mark all over Neil’s life. Neil loves it.

But the letters, the letters are different. They are everywhere. Just standing in the doorway to their room, Neil can spot three. One on red origami paper tucked under a pillow. One on a plain A4 sheet next to the window. And the third balanced precariously between the ironing board and the wall.

The ironing board Andrew bought the day he moved in. _You can live like a savage if you want, Josten, but I keep my clothes well._ Neil had shrugged and made space for it in the alcove in their bedroom. Andrew irons his clothes before putting them away, and then again before putting them on. Neil has never ironed anything in his life; it’s unnecessary and no one seems to care, but it’s another one of Andrew’s ‘I belong here’ signs.

Neil isn’t sure if he’s allowed to read them, if this is one of Andrew’s tests, if he’s doing it unconsciously. Whatever the reason, Neil resolves he won’t even touch them unless Andrew explicitly tells him he can. But it’s Neil. The day he doesn’t snoop, well, that probably isn’t Neil. But it’s Andrew. So no matter how fiddly Neil’s fingers get, he will not look. Because Andrew has only ever looked through Neil’s things once, and Neil will not, he absolutely will not, do anything that breaks their trust.

He shakes his head and goes to get some unironed, decidedly wrinkled clothes. He wanders into the kitchen, but Andrew’s already made his tea and gone back to their library. Well. Maybe it’s a bad day. Neil doesn’t know. He thinks he should go to Andrew, but he doesn’t know how that will be received. It's strange, walking on eggshells around Andrew; he hasn’t done that in years. Hopefully Andrew will tell him what’s wrong before it gets more uncomfortable.

There’s another letter under the kettle. He moves it to the oven, noting the red wax seal. If Andrew has the time to seal and leave these letters around, he has the time to write Neil’s name on the outside. It just confirms that these aren’t for Neil. He makes himself a cup of tea, and despite Andrew boiling water not ten minutes ago, it seems like an eternity before it’s hot enough for tea. An eternity in which Neil has a staring match with a piece of paper. It’s getting ridiculous. A grown man should not be jealous of pieces of paper, but- Well, there’s no use picking it apart. He’s going to find Andrew and have his tea with him, and there isn’t an inanimate object that can stop him.

Neil opens the library door, careful not to tilt his cup. It would be just like him to try and be smooth and end up with first-degree burns. He moves to sit in his armchair (his and his armchairs, another of Andrew’s gifts), and jumps back up when another of those damned letters crackles from under him. He picks it up gingerly, dropping it on Andrew’s chair and sits down.

“Hey.”

Andrew barely looks up, barely grunts in answer.

Neil shoves his temper down. Tries again. “Bad day?”

At this, Andrew looks up. “Could be better.”

Neil is sick of the subterfuge. His temper is rising, words pushing themselves up his throat. He counts to ten in his head.

“Is there something you want to say, Andrew?”

Andrew _looks_ at him. He sighs, takes his glasses off to rub his eyes. “No.”

Neil can tell when his- Andrew is lying. God knows he’s done it enough. But those lies were easy to see through. _I hate you, fucking idiot, I don’t need you, this is nothing_. These are uncharted waters; Neil has no idea what’s happening, what any of this is about, and so cannot tell what part of anything is a lie. It’s tiring.

He chooses to ignore the tension and drinks his tea. Andrew will come around when he wants to. Probably. After all, he’s the one being unreasonable. Even after all these years, Neil can’t read his mind. Leaving letters lying around isn’t helping. Not baking in days hasn’t made anything better. Neil would kill for one of Andrew’s fancy cookies right about now. What he’d like most is for Andrew to come perch on the arm of his chair, lean down to kiss him, tell him what the hell is going on.

Almost as if he can hear Neil's thoughts, Andrew gets up from his desk. He walks steadily to Neil’s chair, eyes locked on Neil’s. When he drops onto the side of the chair, it isn’t a surprise. Normally, it’s a lead up to Andrew slowly edging onto Neil’s lap. The surprise comes when Andrew drops a piece of paper onto Neil’s lap instead of himself. 

Neil picks it up. It’s beautiful, thick paper, sealed with a drop of red wax. Where Andrew keeps getting wax from, Neil has no idea. He turns it over, pausing to read Andrew’s neat print. _To the only idiot in this house. Can’t you take a hint?_ Neil shakes his head at the dramatics. But Andrew’s making an effort, and Neil can feel his ire at being cold-shouldered decreasing. He can’t let Andrew get away with it, though.

He puts the letter back in his lap, turning to take Andrew’s hand. Their pose resembles something out of a portrait from a hundred years ago.

“If you need to say something, I will always listen to you.” Neil knows he sounds like disappointed-parent Nicky.

Andrew lifts his chin, his expression not betraying a thing. “Some things are better written down.”

Neil raises an eyebrow. A sudden thought crosses his mind, _is this Andrew breaking up with me?_ But no, Andrew’s relaxed, watching Neil with open contentment. And he hasn’t let go of Neil’s hand. No, Andrew isn’t walking away from him, they’re okay. So, what could be so important that he can’t say it out loud?

“You can read it, instead of trying to figure it out. I am not in the habit of giving you things that I don’t want to.”

And there’s the real issue. Well, he’ll address it after reading the letter. He slides his thumb under the seal, cracking it. He’d be more careful if the seal was decorated, but it isn’t. 

_Neil,_

_I am not open with my feelings, I have never had need to be. Not with you. You always seem to know what I’m thinking, even when I don’t. Which is why it surprises me that you could not read my intentions this time. I would not be so cruel as to leave temptation in your path, so no Neil, this is not a test of some sort. I appreciate your restraint, and your respect for my boundaries. However, it is unnecessary._

_I understand, darling, that my consent wasn’t verbal, but I imagined I made it pretty damn clear who the letters were for. I see it was not clear to you, so I’m taking care to address it and I plan on handing it over personally. Just to remove any confusion. I’m not upset, I’m not. I’m so fucking lucky to have found someone who respects me, doesn’t take anything without asking first. But these letters are yours. They are yours - you can have them, read them, hoard them, throw them away - do whatever you want with them, they are_ yours _._

_I don’t know why I write them. I think it’s because there’s a lot I want to tell you that I don’t trust myself to say out loud. And you deserve to hear them, but you know I’ll never be able to say any of it in person. This is the closest I can get to telling you that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Should you read the rest of these, do not be offended that I repeat myself - I had no idea which letter you would read first. And ignore the more recent ones where I ask you what that brain does outside of exy._

_If this seems eccentric to you, I would like to remind you who you’re dating. If it seems far from me to say the things I write here, then that is true. I can never tell you that I love the way your eyes brighten whenever you think up a new play. It feels far too vulnerable - these letters are easier to write somehow. I don’t know if I can explain,_ ~~ _just_~~ _have them, they’re for you._

_You’ve just come into the room. Neil, I have to ask, do you know the effect you have on me? I forgot how to spell 'you've' when I felt your eyes on me. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. Neil, darling, nothing is wrong. I don’t want to tell you anything, not anything urgent that is. It felt like rejection when you didn’t read my letters, and I retreated and was unfair to you. Then, I sat back and tried to see things from your perspective. Which was when I realised I was the idiot. For any hurt I have caused you, no matter that it was unintentional, I apologise._

_I’m going to give this to you now. I’m not very nervous about how you’ll react. I think you’ll tell me off for not being straight with you, and then you’ll scold me because your tea went cold while you read this. I know you well too, you see._

_Andrew_

Neil puts the letter down, not sure what he’s feeling. As Andrew said, on the one hand, he wants to tell him never to scare him like that again. On the other, he wants to slide his hands into Andrew’s hair and kiss him. Let him slip onto Neil’s lap and stay there for the foreseeable future. Actually, Neil knows exactly how he feels.

He tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of Andrew’s neck and tugs him gently toward him. Andrew is happy to kiss him for a few minutes before he begins his subtle maneuvers that will end with him on top of Neil. Sure enough, he starts to wiggle a leg over Neil, and Neil wants to pull him onto the chair. 

So he does. “Yes or no?”

Andrew puts his plan on pause. “Yes.”

Neil slides his hands under Andrew’s knees and lifts him off the arm of the chair, because even though it has an Andrew-shaped indentation, it can’t be very comfortable. Andrew’s arms go around Neil’s shoulders and he goes back to kissing Neil, looking calmer. 

Neil pulls away, trying to look stern. “If you don’t want to give me something personally, leave it in our mailbox. Don’t go scattering things around the house and expect me to read your mind.”

Andrew’s eyes go wide. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” He shifts down to kiss Neil’s nose. “That’s a very good idea, but it’s extraordinarily difficult to take you seriously when you look so tender.”

“Indulge me then.”

Andrew smiles, a soft, small, perfect smile. “I can do that.”

Dinner is late that night. Andrew claims it’s Neil’s fault for having such a comfortable lap. Neil claims Andrew shouldn’t kiss like that if he wants Neil to think about mundane things like food. All in all, they’re very pleased with how the evening turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back! I definitely forgot this series existed, especially because my model! au was very distracting. But, I have not abandoned it, oh no - I have the next six parts planned out (yes six).
> 
> This idea was bouncing around for a while, and I finally gave it the attention it deserved. (Y'all's comments inspire most of my ideas for this series, but this specific one was born after reading Pride and Prejudice one too many times) (If you haven't read that, read it.)
> 
> I posted this under complete, but I'm thinking if y'all want, I can do more chapters with the rest of Andrew's letters. And maybe some of Neil's replies? Let me know!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	2. Chapter 2

_Neil,_

_You’re away. It’s only for a few days, but I miss you. It feels as though I’m standing in goal with no back liners. When you’re gone, there’s no one to protect. And no one to protect me. My team thinks I’m indestructible, you don’t; that’s nice. With you I can be myself._

_I’m leaving a day before you come back. I haven’t told you yet - I don’t want to see your face fall. It’s a ‘surprise training camp’. I hate it. I hate this. I absolutely detest it. Neil, I miss you with my entire being. I miss you the same way the ocean would miss the sand if it was taken away. I’m sorry you’ll have to come home to an empty house. I want to be here to make you dinner and massage your feet and show you the sunset._

_I’m making a few dishes and leaving them in the freezer, so at least there’s food when you come back. And I’ll leave this letter in the key bowl, so it’ll be the first thing you see. There’s so much I want to do but can’t. So I’ll settle for this._

_Neil, I’ve been thinking. I know we said we wanted to sign with the Cyclones because they’re the closest team to our house. (It was a stupid decision to buy a house before signing with a team.) But I’ve been looking at teams and the Bobcats are pretty close to us too. Not as close as the C’s, but the B’s court is only a half hour drive away. I’d like you to think it over while I’m away, and we can make a decision when we’re ready._

_I want you back, darling. I want to feel your laughter against my neck. I want to burn food with you because we got carried away. I want to go to bed with you and wake up with you and drive to court with you and come home with you. Neil, it’s so strange to use the word ‘want’ so freely, but I do. I want so much. And I feel it’s okay to want, it’s okay when it’s with you._

_I started work on the garden. It’s going to be so pretty next spring. I think we should put a couple of chairs on the back deck, and also try and get a vegetable garden going. Hopefully after the season ends, we’ll have more time to renovate._

_Neil, remember to HEAT the risotto. It isn’t meant to be eaten cold. Idiot._

_Andrew_

When Andrew checks the mailbox before leaving, there’s a postcard featuring a cat. On the back, scratched in Neil’s messy scrawl are two lines.

\- Made me think of you

\- ♡ NJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love for this fic made me write more, so thanks for that! I'm so excited to write this fic, specially as it'll correspond with future works in this series. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Andrew comes home a week later to a note glue tacked to the door.

\- I heated the risotto, it was nice. Check the fridge.

\- We’ll see about teams

\- No deck chairs, rather have a swing set. Check your texts.

\-  ♡ NJ (I missed you)

There’s also a list with the statistics for both the Cyclones and the Bobcats. Neil’s drawn a little fox at the top of the page. Andrew leaves a letter on top of the oven before going to bed.

_ Neil, _

_ I’ve said this before, but I am so lucky to have found you. Darling, the food was a gift. I’m not saying I didn’t appreciate the gesture, but you didn’t  _ have _ to repay me. Still, the lasagna tasted very nice. Put the recipe in our book? _

_ It’s okay. We don’t have to make any decisions right now. Both of us still have a year left on our contracts. I brought it up because I didn't want next July to come around without us having a plan in place. It’s true that the Bobcats are smaller than the Cyclones, but they clearly have a superior line up. Their defence makes up for the shit goalie, but if I was in goal, they would do so much better. Their offence could definitely do better, but not all of them had the chances we did. Look what you’ve done to me - I never thought I’d argue about exy with you. _

_ You’re right, a cane swing would look nicer on the porch. Your taste in garden furniture can definitely be improved on. Don’t give me that look, it was an ugly swing. Orange, really? Next you’ll be wanting a tabby cat to complement your (nonexistent) colour scheme. _

_ Neil, Neil, Neil - neither of us expected to survive past college, yet here we are discussing home renovations. We were never anyone’s answer, but the answers are easier to see when you’re with me. Neil, darling, be my defence line and let me be your goalie.  _

_ I’m so glad I can see the sunset from the study. The red reminds me of you. _

_ Andrew _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on this fic, it makes my day, everyday! Short chapter this time because I'm writing the next two parts of the series.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Neil steps cautiously into the library, waiting for Andrew to tell him to leave. He doesn’t. He’s staring out of the window blankly, clearly a thousand miles away. Neil knows that isn't good. He places his note on one of the desks and leaves again. Andrew lights another cigarette.

_ Hey, I’m going to buy paint and more screws in a bit. If there’s anything we’re running low on, let me know? Or I can get it tomorrow. I need to get out of the house, and I think you need me out of the house. I won’t be gone long. There’s ice cream in the freezer if you want.  _

_ Let’s leave the second floor alone for now. It’s too big and too much work for just the two of us. There are sparrows nesting in the roof, is that safe or not? I’m not too sure. Maybe it’s okay because of the double layer of tiles and sheet? Which reminds me, how much of the green netting should I buy? _

__ _ ♡ NJ _

Andrew strides past the living room, completely ignoring Neil. Minutes later, he’s retreating back to the library, clutching a tub of ice cream. When Neil goes to get his keys, there’s a note in the key bowl. 

_ Neil, _

_ don’t forget paint thinner. net -2 meters. more rags. _

_ Andrew ♥️ _

The heart is wobbly and scratched over, but Neil almost sinks to the floor and cries right there. They’ve never said it out loud, haven’t needed to, but Neil had wondered if the hearts on his notes and cards were going too far. He’s glad Andrew likes it. He’s glad they’ve found a new way to communicate on bad days.

He jingles the keys as he gets into the Maserati.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I have learnt from the comments: Andrew calling Neil 'darling' is something that can be so personal.
> 
> Things I want to say: THANK YOU!! I love all of you, and have so much more planned for these two.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In book 1, Neil uses a play where he hits the ball and then drops to a knee so his mark tries to check him and instead runs into the wall. I wondered what would happen if that became a "Josten dangerous" move, along with a bunch more that terrify Kevin. And then I thought about Andrew's reaction.

From: Andrew < [ amjpoprocks@gmail.com ](mailto:amjpoprocks@gmail.com) >

To: Idiot Junkie

Neil,

Neil, you absolutely brilliant fucking idiot. What the fuck were you thinking? I thought Dan forbade you from using that play four years ago. It’s dangerous, you’ll hurt yourself, she said. Why would you use it in the one game you knew she’d watch? Do you have a death wish? (Do _not_ answer that.) I have three missed calls from her. Three, Junkie, that’s how bad it is. Never do that again when she’s watching.

That was the lecture I promised her I’d give you. Now for mine. You should have slid closer to the wall - at the angle he was approaching from, he would have hit the wall without touching you. Next time you try a move like that, don’t curl into the fetal position. It makes you a smaller target, but it also puts all of you in the same place. If you stretch out, only a certain part of your body bears the brunt of a body slam. 

Come home. I miss you.

Andrew ♥️

From: Neil < [ nmjfuzzysocks@gmail.com ](mailto:nmjfuzzysocks@gmail.com) >

To: Goalie Muffin

Andrew, hi. It wasn’t such a big deal, he barely got my stomach. I don’t know why Dan was so mad about it. I’m fine. (Did you laugh at that?) And don’t think I didn’t see you try the same move not two months back. Yes, I turned off my phone, that’s why Dan and Kevin are probably calling you. 

I can’t make a split second decision to splay myself across the court when instinct tells me to curl up. I wouldn’t even have needed to if Greene was good with offence. (The Bobcats are looking more welcoming by the day!) I haven’t played against good defence in months. Months, Andrew. We should have a one on one game soon, it’s been ages since our last one. And we need the practice.

I’m boarding now. I miss you too.

Neil  ♡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't their private emails just the cutest? Who wants the story behind them?? Despite the email addresses, they aren't actually married (yet).
> 
> (I don't know if I need to say this, but those email addresses don't exist. I checked.)
> 
> As always, hope you enjoyed! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Andrew feels in the pockets of his jacket before putting it on. Sure enough, there’s a sticky note in the breast pocket. 

What are we going to do with the second floor? ♡

Andrew smooths the note out and puts it back in his pocket. Since neither of them know much about fixing houses, or anything about houses really, they had sorely underestimated how much paint they’d need. Neil’s currently cleaning all the paint they’d splashed, while Andrew goes to get more. 

When Andrew comes back, after interrogating the guy at the hardware store, Neil’s standing on the front porch. He waves with his free hand, holding a phone with the other. Andrew can handle the paint, so he waves back. He drops a kiss on Neil’s shoulder as he passes, but Neil follows him in, switching the phone to speaker.

“-open one can at a time. It doesn’t matter if you want different colours, do them separately. If you leave the cans open, they get sludgy and hard to use. Next, wipe your brushes. When you’re painting, if you don’t take the extra paint off, you run the risk of ruining your floor.”

Neil interrupts. “We already did that. That’s why we’re calling.”

Matt sighs. “Did you clean it up?”

“Yeah. We used thinner and wiped it up.”

“What’s your base?”

“Right now, tiles. But when we move to the bedrooms, it’ll be wood.”

Matt laughs. “That’s great, but your paint. What’s the base for the paint you’re using? Is it water or oil?”

Andrew takes the phone from Neil. “What’s the difference?”

“Short answer - water-based paint is better for walls, takes less damage from moisture and precipitation, and is easier to paint over. Oil-based is more varnish-y, lasts longer, and feels tougher than water-based.”

Neil looks up from the bag. “It’s water-based.”

“Good. That means you don’t need to use solvents to clean up. That’s better for your brain. You only need ethanol or something ethanol adjacent.”

“Is it better to remove the existing paint or paint over it?”

“Because you’re using water-based paint, it shouldn’t matter. It’s only if you plan on repainting every few years, I’d say strip off the old paint. Even then, it isn’t a huge deal.”

Andrew and Neil glance at each other. They’d thought after this, they could leave the walls alone. 

Neil answers for them, “We aren’t repainting.”

“Then you’re fine. Make sure you prep the walls first.” Matt pauses. “Do you know how to do that?”

Neil says, “Um.”

Andrew says, “We can learn.”

He can hear Matt flipping through a book. “I’m free this Saturday. Dan and I were going to visit anyway. We’ll come over and show you.”

Neil glances at Andrew, and Andrew knows what he’s asking. Andrew wouldn’t mind it either. “We have spare bedrooms if you have sleeping bags.”

They can tell Matt’s grinning when he replies, “We always have sleeping bags. We’re the Wilds family, remember?”

Andrew tries to hang up to pay him back for that awful pun, but Neil grabs the phone from him. “We’ll see you then. Thanks. Bye.”

“Bye. Don’t burn the house down before we get there.”

Neil hangs up and turns to Andrew. “We have spare bedrooms? Where?”

“Second floor. Although, I thought we could leave that for later.”

Neil groans. “We have so much work.”

“We forgot to ask him about the birds.”

“Birds! Andrew, why didn’t we just buy an apartment?”

Andrew wraps his arms around Neil, resting his head against his back. “Because, this is our house. Our walls. Our birds. All ours.”

“Our letters.” And Andrew knows they can both hear the unsaid words,  _ our love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sad about Neil and Andrew having pieces of shit for fathers/father figures, and then I remembered everything I know about home reno, my dad taught me (and then I got sadder). Anyway, this was what happened when Andreil tried to fix their house up, and also Matt is a great dad. Painting's hard, don't try it at home.
> 
> Also, I hc Neil just forgetting how many rooms they have in their house and just... wandering into a room and going 'Andrew, when did this room appear?!'
> 
> I want to write the painting weekend, so that's after I write a backstory for their emails (which this chapter was supposed to be about...)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	7. Chapter 7

It’s a mistake. It was a slip of his hand that switched his middle and last initials around. It had been an honest mistake. And yet. And yet, Andrew can’t bring himself to press the backspace button. It looks nice, the ‘amj’. To him, it looks like hope. But he can’t keep it.

It’s bad enough that the rest of his email is based on the only candy Neil likes. Even if only the two of them will know the meaning, it’s a lot. Now to go and add Neil’s surname to his email, and hope no one catches it, that’s foolish. But. He wants to keep it. He likes the way it looks.

In the end, the blame lies on exy for the predicament he’s in. After all, if he hadn’t gone pro, he wouldn’t have to make a private email that couldn’t get hacked.  _ We don’t want anything incriminating being leaked, _ his publicist had said,  _ it’s better this way. _ Ah yes, better, because staring at a screen and contemplating marrying his boyfriend is  _ better _ . 

The idea of marriage still makes Andrew back away. The notion of tying himself to someone for the rest of his life has always been distasteful. Too much like owing them everything. Too much, period. But he tilts his head, peers at his screen. Somehow, seeing his and Neil’s initials combined makes his hands clench, his heart beat little louder. 

He presses down hard on the backspace key, and before he can second guess himself, types out ‘Neil Abram Minyard Josten’. It’s a mouthful, but it looks good. Andrew slams the lid of his laptop down. 

He reopens it slowly, glaring at his reflection. He types in his password and hits backspace till his screen clears. Leaning back in his chair he sighs and stares at the ceiling.

Neil yells from the kitchen, “Do you want tea now or later?”

Andrew shouts back, “I’ll be there in a bit.”

He looks back at his laptop. Human emotions being as transient as they are, that email address looks quite nice now. He types it back in, chooses a password and closes his laptop. 

It’s weird walking into the kitchen after he switched his initials around so they’d match his boyfriend’s. But Neil just smiles as though he doesn’t see the stiffness in Andrew’s shoulders, the way his lips are aching to smile cruelly. To say something he’ll regret. To regain that feeling of protection and safety. 

“Hi,” Neil says, handing him a mug of tea, “What were you doing?”

“Personal email.”

“Oh right, I haven’t made mine yet. What’s yours?”

And there’s the question Andrew had been dreading. “No.”

“Come, let’s go sit outside. You don’t have to tell me,” he adds, “You could just send me an email.”

Maybe if he sends Neil an email, Neil will not see it. Neil will just add his email and not check what it says, and everything will be alright and Andrew’s heart will stop feeling like there’s a cage around it. 

“You will not say anything about it.” It’s more question than order, but Andrew doesn’t care.

“I won’t.”

Andrew pulls out his phone, logins in and, before he can second guess himself, sends a quick email to Neil’s professional account. Neil’s phone buzzes but he doesn’t take it out. He sits cross-legged on their porch and keeps drinking his tea. Andrew joins him, trying to calm his pulse.

Neil leans his head on Andrew’s shoulder, makes obnoxious slurping noises, laughs. Andrew’s lips twitch and he slurps his tea once, just to hear Neil laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Hey, I'm just a little busy with like dissertations and exams, but my writing block is over (I defenestrated it), so expect more Academic!Andreil!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	8. Chapter 8

_ Neil,  _

_ You looked so… cute today? No, you didn’t look cute. But you were existing and I blanked, and I suppose ‘cute’ is the only English word that can describe that. You looked like you belonged, and Neil, it made me want to smile. I’ve never seen you look so uncomfortable yet happy. Wait, you’ve probably guessed what I saw, but let me show you what you looked like to me. _

_ I was out buying the weekly groceries, and you were at home (as far as I knew). I had paid and was putting the stuff in the car (they didn’t have carrots), when I heard a familiar voice across the street, followed by a child’s laugh. Naturally, my attention was drawn to your doppelganger.  _

_ But I looked over, and who did I see? Yes, my beautiful boyfriend crouching down and talking to a kid. You looked so soft, but you also looked like you were searching for the nearest exit. Then his mother happened along, and y’all had an entire conversation, all while he clung to your hand and played with your hair.  _

_ I couldn’t help myself, I said fuck the groceries and just stood there and watched you. The two of you were adorable, Neil, you haven’t a clue how good you looked. It isn’t just the fact that you and a child is an amazing concept, it’s also that you got more comfortable the more he talked, and you responded and you made him so happy. Neil, for the nth time you’ve rendered me speechless.  _

_ When I was a child, I would have given anything for someone to talk to me the way you spoke to him. You didn’t baby him, but you also didn’t make him uncomfortable by treating him like an adult. Maybe I’m just projecting, but in my eyes you were perfect. I love you.  _

_ He tugged your hair at one point to get your attention, and you just turned and smiled at him, even though children have no concept of their strength. I cannot explain why that gesture meant so much to me. It did. I wanted to cross the street and pick you up and hug you. Right there. The only reason I didn’t was because I would have scared the kid away. _

_ When you left them, you jogged backwards so you could wave at him. I waited till you were out of sight and then I sat down and pulled my paper and pen from the glove compartment. I’ve been sitting here, in a parking lot, and describing something you did to you because it was the best thing I’ve seen all day. _

_ I’m not sure if I’m going to give you this letter right away. I don’t feel comfortable with everything I’ve written here. But I knew I had to write it all down immediately before I lost the feeling. It was a good feeling. I think I may have liked it. _

_ Andrew _ 🎔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see when Andrew gives this letter to Neil, it's going to be posted sometime this week - probably as a separate work.   
> Also, the story of Neil's email is the next chapter, so uh stay tuned!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Neil waits until Andrew goes back inside to open his email. His boyfriend’s weird behaviour is obviously related to his email, but Neil can’t figure out why. He pulls up his email on his phone and opens the newest one.

From: Andrew < [ amjpoprocks@gmail.com ](mailto:amjpoprocks@gmail.com) >

To: Neil Josten

It was an accident. But I like it.

Neil frowns at his phone, trying to figure out what had been an accident. The pop rocks part is obvious - that’s Andrew being sappy and knowing Neil’s favourite candy. There doesn’t seem to be anything else out of place. His initials are- wait. Hold on. What?

Neil closes his email and reopens the app. Clicking on Andrew’s email once more, he gasps when he realises  _ that’s  _ what he had been talking about. In the part he had overlooked, in the part most people would overlook, Andrew’s initials have been switched around. Instead of AJM, they spell out AMJ. Neil counts to ten in his head, barely getting past five before he’s tapping the ‘Add new account’ button.

He knows what the first part of his email should look like. But what can he use that Andrew likes? No, they aren’t going to have matching email addresses, that’s stupid. It’d be nice tho, if their email resembled each other’s just a bit.

So Neil types in NMJ and then sits back. The sun is setting and Neil knows Andrew’s watching it from the library window. He wonders if Andrew can see him from inside, but doesn’t turn around to check. If he sees Andrew right now, he’ll back out of this. It’s not a bad plan, it’s just, he isn’t used to being so open. He isn’t used to things staying permanent either. But if Andrew can do it, so can Neil.

The last traces are fading from the sky when inspiration strikes. Neil turns his phone back on and quickly types in the rest of his email. He likes how it looks, like belonging, like home. 

<[nmjfuzzysocks@gmail.com](mailto:nmjfuzzysocks@gmail.com)> He smiles at it. He quickly adds Andrew as a contact and sends him an email. 

Both their emails are so vague that no one but they themselves could understand it. Pop rocks for the way Neil looks when the candy fizzes in his mouth. Fuzzy socks for the socks Andrew wears to sleep, the ones Neil buys for him. The ones with cat ears and fields with bunnies and little reindeer with Christmas trees.

Andrew comes out a few minutes later. He doesn’t say anything, but he sits behind Neil and wraps his arms around him. Neil tilts his head back as Andrew nuzzles into his neck, hands coming up to hold Andrew’s.

After a while, when it’s completely dark, Andrew speaks. “You didn’t have to.”

“No. I wanted to.”

Andrew hides a smile in Neil’s hair. “Come, let’s go in. I made pasta.”

Neil takes a last look around their backyard, checking if the gate is locked and the bird feeders are filled. Andrew picks up his empty mug, and waits for Neil. Neil stops in the doorway, turning to face Andrew. Andrew kisses him before taking his hand and pulling him into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! this one's a bit late due to Marvel deciding to break my heart yet again... but it's here now ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	10. Chapter 10

This time, the postcard has the picture of an elaborately carved dagger, the kind Andrew always looked at in antique stores.

\- Couldn’t find the real thing

\- I miss you

\- NJ ♡

Andrew tucks the card away in a box reserved for Neil’s notes. He doesn’t write long letters like Andrew does, preferring to express his affection verbally. But he sends cards and notes and short emails. Andrew thinks it’s just something they’ve claimed for themselves, much like other couples have inside jokes and traditions. 

He opens his laptop and starts typing an email to Neil. 

_ Neil,  _

_ I went to the park today. The house felt a little too big without you. Kara and Gabe were there. Gabe asked after you, he was rather sad that he had to settle for me. Kara and Adam have invited us over for dinner when you get back. Who knew, darling, the minute you felt comfortable, you’d make friends with all our neighbours? Not that I’m complaining, Adam’s a great cook, but we do have to return the favour at some point. _

_ Good luck for the game tonight. I’ll be watching, so don’t try anything funny. Oh, and so will Kev, for some reason. You took the wrong pair of shin guards, but I only realised today. You’ll have to tape them a bit for mine to fit you but there shouldn’t be a problem. Watch out for their #08, especially if he’s marking you. _

_ I got your postcard. I liked it, and the dagger. You know, you promised to take me to that antique store you visited once, and we still haven’t gotten around to doing that. We should do that after the season ends. It always feels like you’re buying me gifts, it’s high time I turned that around. We have time enough to plan. I’ve been thinking about another place I’ve been wanting to visit. Well, not wanting to, but there’s someone I want to visit who, unfortunately, lives there.  _

_ I’ve started clearing the upstairs for when Dan and Matt visit. And remember how the previous owner said they were selling ‘the house and everything in it’? Neil, the second floor is an absolute treasure trove. If we didn’t need one of the bedrooms urgently, I’d have let it all be so we could go through it together. As it is, I’m only moving stuff out of the east-facing bedroom. After this ‘painting weekend’ we can look through all of it.  _

_ Stay safe _

_ Andrew🎔 _

_ P.S. I’m so peeved our teams aren’t in the same bracket this year. I wanted to play against you, and I know my team’s just going to lose near the quarters.  _ _ Come home. _

Barely half an hour later, when Andrew’s heating leftovers for lunch, he gets a reply in the form of a text.

Which one faces east?? Is it the front one or the back one? Don’t worry, my socks can hold up the guards. Tell Kara we’ll be there. We’ll be playing together from next year, you drama queen. I’ll run extra fast so I can get home faster xx

The response is so patently Neil, and Andrew knows that last line was designed to irritate him. Yet somehow, he can’t ignore it.

Idiot. xx

Andrew goes back upstairs feeling significantly lighter. His hus-boyfriend always has that effect on him. Even the birds nesting in the roof sound nicer now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this hc that Andrew just "accidentally" calls Neil his husband in his head. So no, they aren't married (yet), trust me, you'll know when that happens.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


End file.
